


Kidnapped

by Silverskipper17



Category: Jacksepticeye-Fandom, Markiplier-fandom, Youtube RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskipper17/pseuds/Silverskipper17
Summary: He was about to start his camera for the second time that day when he heard a loud bang come from outside his room. Was Signe home already? He looked at the clock on his computer. "She’s not due home for another six hours." He left his setup and peeked out his door. Nobody. He crept through the hall toward the living room to investigate further. The couch cushions were thrown all over the place and his television was missing from the stand. What scared him more was the fact that his apartment door was left wide open. "Have I been robbed?" More importantly, "Are they still here?"Slam! Something hard suddenly smacked the back of Jack’s head. He felt himself collapse onto his apartment floor before blacking out.





	1. Prologue

               “Aw. Do you have to leave so soon?”

               Jack did not want him to leave. His girlfriend Signe was away visiting family, so his best friend Mark had come to Ireland just to keep him company and record a few videos with him. They were having the time of their lives until Mark mentioned that he was leaving early in order to catch up with his own recording schedule. Jack was devastated that he would be alone again, but he did not push it; he felt that Mark’s schedule was more important than Jack’s amusement. When the day finally came for him to leave, however, Jack regretted keeping his mouth shut.

               “Can’t you stay for just a few more hours?” Jack begged.

               “I’m sorry, Jack,” Mark sighed. “I would love to hang out some more, but I already booked my plane ticket, and if I miss it I’ll be stuck here for another week. I can’t afford that.”

               Jack sighed. As much as he wanted to keep Mark around, he didn’t want to watch him suffer. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “I’ll see you at the next convention, I guess.”

               “Don’t worry,” Mark tried his best to cheer up his Irish friend. “We can still chat on Skype and record other videos with Bob and Wade until then.”

               “Yeah!” Jack instantly perked up. He loved spending time with the guys.

               “Alright,” Mark smiled. “I’ll text you when I get off the plane.”

               “Okay. Bye, Mark!”

               “Buh-bye!”

               Jack watched Mark walk out the door, dragging his way too large suitcase with him. He waited for Mark to be out of sight before closing the door to his apartment. A long silence followed. He sighed.

               _Alone again._

               He tried to submerge himself into his original schedule. He trudged into his recording room and got ready to record his next video.

 

               He was about to start his camera for the second time that day when he heard a loud bang come from outside his room. _Was Signe home already?_ He looked at the clock on his computer. _She’s not due home for another six hours._ He left his setup and peeked out his door. Nobody. He crept through the hall toward the living room to investigate further. The couch cushions were thrown all over the place and his television was missing from the stand. What scared him more was the fact that his apartment door was left wide open. _Have I been robbed?_   More importantly, _Are they still here?_

_Slam!_ Something hard suddenly smacked the back of Jack’s head. He felt himself collapse onto his apartment floor before blacking out.

 


	2. It's All My Fault

               Mark threw his suitcase onto the floor and flung himself onto his bed. He felt extremely jet-lagged and longed for a moment to relax and fall asleep. Finally, that moment had arrived. As his eyes fluttered shut, he thought about how much he still had to record. How it could wait for a few hours while he slept. How he still had to call Bob and set up a time. How he had promised Jack that he could join them.

               Jack!

               _Shit!_ Mark told him that he would text him when he got off the plane and cursed at himself when he realized he forgot to. He sprang off his bed and dug through his suitcase for his phone. He turned it on, expecting to see his usual lock screen. Instead, however, he was greeted with a ton of notifications for text messages and missed calls from every single person he knew. _What the hell is going on?_

               Without checking his messages, he called the number that showed up the most on his feed. That was Signe. Jack’s girlfriend. _Fuck. Is Jack mad at me or something?_

               “Hello?” Signe finally picked up.

               “Hey, it’s Mark,” Mark greeted, expecting to get yelled at about how awful of a friend he was.

               “Mark! Where were you?! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for like two days now!”

               “Sorry,” he sighed. “I was on the plane and I just got back. I know Jack might be mad at me, but I had to leave. I have too much to do. I just couldn’t afford staying any longer. And I figured you would be home soon, so I assumed he would be fine. Tell him I’m sorry and I’ll call him later.”

               There was a long pause after his explanation. Too long. “Hello?” Mark thought Signe hung up on him, which was perfectly understandable.

               “Mark,” Signe finally said, sorrow in her voice. “You don’t know, do you?”

               _Uh oh._ “Know what?” Mark gulped.

               “Mark… I came home Friday night and discovered that the apartment was a mess and the door was wide open. We were robbed!”

               “I’m so sorry. I—“

               “That’s not all. I searched the entire apartment and I couldn’t find Jack. I called everyone I could and they hadn’t seen him either. Mark, Jack’s missing.”

               Mark nearly dropped his phone. _Missing?_ Was Jack that mad at him. No. They were robbed. Maybe Jack went to get the cops. No wait, that was days ago. Where could he be?

               “Mark?”

               “Hm?” Mark jolted out of his daze.

               “I said I reported him missing yesterday and the cops are on the lookout. After investigating the crime scene, they found fingerprint evidence that matched a criminal in their record. They suspect this guy named Edward Gustavo. He is wanted for robbery, kidnapping, and first-degree murder.

               Now Mark began to panic. “First-degree murder?” he repeated, shaking.

               “Yeah, I’m worried too.” She sensed the fear in his tone. “But the cops are on it. They reported it on the news and everyone is on the lookout. Unfortunately, all we can do now is wait.”

               “Yeah. Okay.”

               “It’ll be okay, Mark.” Signe reassured, nearly in tears. “They’ll find him.”

               “I hope.” Mark whispered, nearly in tears himself.

               “I’ll update you later. Goodbye.”

               Mark nodded and hung up without saying goodbye himself. He tossed his phone onto his bed and stood there, trying to comprehend what was just said to him. His best friend was in danger, or worse, and there was nothing he could do about it. He instantly regretted leaving him so early. If he had stayed, they could have warded off the offender or called the cops sooner since there were two of them. But Jack was alone and completely helpless. He hated that he left him. This was all his fault.

               Mark felt his legs buckle beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor, leaning his head against the end of his bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a hot, salty liquid inevitably trickle down his cheeks. _It’s all my fault._ His body shook as he repeated those words. He buried his head into his hands and gave in to sobs. _It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault!_ The words grew louder. His hands became soaked by his tears and his head spun from lack of oxygen. “It’s all my fault!” he screamed aloud.

               He heard his door creak open but he didn’t bother to look up. He continued to sob into his hands whispering those same words over and over again. He jumped slightly when he felt a warm embrace around his shoulders, but he did not move from his position. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” the voice of his girlfriend Amy whispered into his ear.

               Mark instantly leaned into Amy and continued to cry. Amy rubbed his back and shoulders soothingly, whispering words of encouragement every so often until Mark fell asleep in her arms.


	3. Where Am I?

               Jack moaned. Or, at least he tried to. His body felt extremely weak, and he could barely muster the energy to let out any sound. His lips felt incredibly dry, so he tried to lick them in order to soothe them, only to discover that something was lodged in his mouth. Panicking, he attempted to speak, but whatever was in his mouth prevented him from moving his lips any more than the position they were already in. He felt a surge of adrenaline when he realized that he couldn’t move either. His eyes shot open. Greeted by darkness, he tried to observe his situation. He soon realized that his body was completely wrapped up in what appeared to be rope, and his mouth was pried open with something tied around his head. _What the fuck is going on?_

               He tried to remember what happened before this. He remembered that he was at his apartment with Mark. Yeah, Mark was visiting him while his girlfriend was away, but he had to leave early. He had begun to record when he heard something in his living room. He remembered that his apartment had apparently been robbed, and then… he remembered nothing else.

               A bump from underneath him caused him to bounce up slightly from the surface he laid on. While painful, he had a sudden revelation. Looking around, noticing the soft fabric around him, he confirmed his suspicion. He was in a vehicle, most likely the trunk. And it was moving.

               _Oh shit! I’ve been kidnapped, haven’t I?_

               A muffled voice could be heard from behind the fabric wall. He assumed it was his kidnapper. He listened closely.

               “Listen to me. No, I’m not over there. Will you shut the fuck up and listen to me?” Jack assumed that he was talking on the phone with someone.

               “Listen. I got another one. This one looks promising. A little frail, but promising.” Jack gulped. _They’re talking about me._

               “I know you just had one, but hey, I could always kill him if you don’t like him.”

               _Oh, god. I hope he likes me._

               “Meet me in the usual place. I’m driving my new black Mustang. Yes, I stole it. Heehee… Yeah, next to the bridge. I’ll have him. I think you’ll like him. He has green hair and everything. I know how much you like the color green.”

               _Shit._

               “Alright, Mitch. I’ll see you then.” Silence.

               Jack couldn’t help but squirm. He feared what would happen to him.

               “I hear that you’re awake back there.”

               _Fuck. He heard me._

               “Don’t worry, Mister Green Hair,” his kidnapper teased. “We’re almost there. You’ll be introduced to your new owner, and you’ll be on your way to your new home.”

               _Owner? Home? Who do you think I am? Some kind of animal?_ Jack hated this guy already.

 

               Jack sat in silence, a permanent glare plastered on his face. He wished he could punch his perpetrator in the face and show him who was the real boss. But he knew he was inferior to him, so he retracted the thought. After what seemed like forever of bumping around in the back of his stolen car, the vehicle finally stopped. His glare was instantly replaced by panic as the kidnapper opened his door.

               “Won’t be long now,” he called as he slammed the door shut.

               Jack was finally alone. Knowing this, he felt another surge of adrenaline and determination course through his veins. He had to get out of there. And fast. He rolled around in his rope trap, banging his head on the walls in the process. He hoped that he could somehow wriggle free from his containment, but he figured that it would be impossible. He gave up, laying where he was, and panted. Why waste the last of his energy on something hopeless? He whimpered, fearing the inevitable.

               _There has to be_ some _way._

               His head rolled to the side so he was looking at the back of the trunk. Glancing around, he noticed something shinier than the rest of the trunk. Straining his eyes to see, he saw a flat metal tool with a dark handle laying in front of him. It rounded from the sides and met at the top in a point, and the handle appeared to be made out of cheap plastic. Jack’s reflection could be seen in it.

               It was a knife.

               Of course a murderer would have a knife in his trunk. Good thing he didn’t hit it when he was rolling around. He could have seriously cut his face up.

               Cut.

               _That’s it!_

               Jack squirmed his arms around from inside the rope and repositioned them the best he could. After about a minute of squirming, he was able to stick his hand out from between the layers of rope far enough for his entire hand and wrist to be exposed. His kidnapper apparently did not do that great of a job wrapping him up, and he was thankful for his haste. He scooted himself toward the knife and grabbed it with his free hand. He positioned it to where he was holding the opposite end of the blade and began to saw through the rope. It soon became extremely uncomfortable to do so, and his wrist began to cramp up, but he persisted through it. He hoped that eventually he could break the rope and wriggle free. But it would take a while.

               He heard the kidnapper talk again. He could not hear everything, but he was able to make out some words. “Here.” “Almost.” “Love.” “Green.” “Five minutes.”

               Was that all the time he had? He would never get out of there in time; it would take too long. Maybe he should just drop the knife and accept his fate…. No. He was stronger than that. He was more determined than that. He would make it out of their alive for his community. For his girlfriend. For Mark.

               He frantically sawed through the rope as fast as he could until, about a moment later, he felt the rope snap from under him. _Yes!_ He continued through the next layers one by one, feeling each of them snap after a moment or two. After sawing through what felt like four strands, a car door slammed. Jack jumped at the sound. Immediately afterwards, he heard two voices talking to each other. _Shit! I need to go_ now _!_

               He threw the knife across the trunk and began to roll around, unraveling himself and slamming into the walls in the process. He got himself unwound enough for him to stick his arms out and dizzily drag the rope off of his body. He instantly felt lighter, but he also felt the sweat that stuck to his shirt. With a sigh, he brushed himself off and removed the cloth that had pried his mouth open for so long. Quietly, he took a second to lick his lips and swallow a few times to get the moisture back, though it did not help much. He was finally free, but he was not out of the woods yet.

               As silently as he could, he crawled around the trunk to see if there was a way out or if he would have to face his perpetrator head on. Luckily, he found that the wall where the seat was could collapse when he pushed on it. Slowly, he applied pressure to the seat, watching it slowly fold down. The sudden light shining through the crack stung his eyes, and he had to squint in order to continue. Finally, the seat would not go down any further, and Jack took a little peek through the hole and out the window.

               He noticed trees and snow around him everywhere he looked. About twenty feet from the car, he saw a tiny wooden bridge over a creek. Next to that bridge, two men stood and talked, exchanging what he assumed to be either drugs or money. Jack studied both men carefully. One was a tall, white man with a heavy coat and what appeared to be skinny jeans. His hair was shaved off, leaving only a bushy mustache resting under his nose. Jack could not see his arms, but looking at his wrists, he could see ink marks that he figured could possibly be tattoos. The other man was a taller, black, muscular dude who wore absolutely nothing but a muscle shirt and some dark jeans, exposing his unbelievably thick muscles to the crisp, snowy air. He had a stare as cold as the snow on the ground; Jack did not want to mess with him. Those two guys had to be his kidnapper and the guy he was talking to on the phone, though he did not know which was which.

               Jack gulped. He had to somehow exit the vehicle without either of them noticing. He crawled to the opposite side of where the bridge was and unlocked the door, being careful not to expose his hand through the window. He quietly opened the door, getting a rush of the cold air from outside, making him shiver. But something else rushed in as well. Something audible. Something that made Jack jump out of his skin and realize that he had messed up big time.

               The car alarm went off.

               “Hey!” A thundering voice sounded from the bridge.

               So much for sneaking away. Jack sprang out of the car, slamming face first into the snow before dragging himself up and sprinting as fast as his recently unused legs could sprint away from the car. He heard the crunching of snow from behind him; they were after him for sure. He weaved in and out of trees and jumped over stray logs just for a chance to lose them, but they remained hot on his tail. How was he possibly going to get away from them? Glancing back and forth from tree to tree, he frantically tried to come up with an idea. His body began to give up on him. His chest heaved, his legs began to tingle, and he felt himself slowing down. They were probably gaining on him now. What could he do?

               Glancing back at the trees, he suddenly knew what he had to do, but he needed to gain some distance.

               He began to weave through the trees again, taking a sharp turn and bolting another way often. He stepped over paths where he had previously been on purpose, hoping that he would not run into those mean guys in the process. After about a minute of doing this, he searched for the bushiest tree in the area. One in particular stood out to him. Its trunk was tall, but the leaves on it covered most of it to the point where he could hide easily. He glanced behind him, noticing that his kidnappers were no longer behind him, though still close. Perfect.

               He sprinted around the tree of choice a few times before hoping to himself that his childhood days of climbing trees would pay off now. He jumped into the air sideways and awkwardly clung to the trunk of the tree. With childhood instincts taking over, he climbed up the tree at a speed he could not even comprehend until he was completely submerged in its leaves. His climbing slowed down as he searched for a branch to hold on to. When he heard the voices of the perpetrators below him, he froze where he was, gripping part of a branch as well as the trunk. He held his breath as he listened.

               “Where’d he go now?” one of them asked.

               “I know he’s close,” the other answered.

               Jack watched as the white man analyzed the tracks around him, trudging around the tree he hid in and staring into the distance. Jack could now feel the cold air pierce through his thin, red shirt. His body began to tremble, and his teeth started to chatter. He strongly hoped that they would not hear him.

               “Dammit!” the man below slammed a fist into the ground, snapping Jack back into reality. “That green-haired little shit! He crossed his own path on purpose just to throw us off!”

               “You promised me a man today,” the buff guy approached the other intimidatingly. “I want my man.”

               “Hey, easy now, big guy,” the white male stood up again. “I’ll get you one. If not this one, another one. There’s a neighborhood back the way we came. Nice big place with lots of men.”

               “Take me there,” he demanded. “I want my man. Now.”

               “Alright, god. Give me a minute will ya?” He sighed, shivering a little at a sudden breeze. “Come on, let’s get back to the car. The snow’s starting to pick up.”

               Jack heard both men walk away from his tree and back the way they came. Some muttering. Then silence. Only the sound of the wind through the trees remained. Jack refused to move from his spot, despite the fact that his body demanded him to move anyway. He waited.

               The sun had begun to set when he finally decided that it was safe to move. His hair and clothes were covered in snow, and his body was stiff and numb from being still for so long. Shaking himself off slightly, he slid down the trunk of the tree and quietly stepped onto the snowy ground. He looked around. No sign of anyone. Jack did not know if that was a good thing or not, but he honestly didn’t really care. He was free now. He had evaded a dangerous criminal. He should feel proud of himself. All he felt, however, was anxious.

               Looking around, he realized that he had no idea how to get back to the bridge or the main road. Worse, he didn’t even know if he was still in Ireland. He gulped, only to realize how parched his throat was. He had to drink something; he would die faster if he didn’t. Realizing that he saw a creek under the bridge, he began to search for that creek, assuming that it continued through the forest and to where he was.

               To his surprise, it did. He only had to walk for a few minutes before hearing the sound of rushing water. Instinctively, he darted toward the source and skidded to a halt when he reached the edge of the creek. Without thinking, he scooped up some water into his hands, ignoring how badly it stung, and drank. He didn’t care if it would make him sick later; he needed something now. Once he was satisfied, he switched back to being anxious. Where would he go now? Realizing that he had seen part of the creek at the bridge, he decided to follow it back to where he was, though he did not know which way. The sun had set all the way, and Jack was left in darkness. He decided that resting was not an option without freezing to death. Hesitantly, he trudged through the snow, following the creek to where he hoped would be the bridge and, more importantly, the road back to town.


End file.
